


Helpless hands

by mecchayabai



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mecchayabai/pseuds/mecchayabai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I should have been the one who cut your hand.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless hands

“You were gone for a while this time, Killian.”

The voice from behind his back comes as a surprise, and Killian uses a couple of seconds to curse Peter Pan and his magic to the lowest pit of hell before he turns to look at the boy over his shoulder. 

Pan looks delighted as their eyes meet, his poison green eyes all but sparkling with devilish joy, and flashes Killian a wide smile. He spreads his arms as if waiting for the captain to hug him, and laughs brightly when Killian grimaces and turns around again, resuming to what he was doing before the interruption. No matter that undressing in front of his mortal enemy makes the muscles of his whole body tense. 

Blame it on his pride both as a man and the greatest pirate from Neverland to the Enchanted Forest, but Pan would notice if Killian stopped and he’d take it as a sign of weakness. 

“Not a very warm welcome, I see, not even when I rushed here the moment I felt your vessel enter Neverland again,” Pan says and stalks closer, for once not using his powers to reappear mere inches away from Killian. He’s taking lazy steps forward instead, and Killian, for his part, keeps stubbornly silent and concentrates on the clasps of his coat. 

“You should tell me about your travels. What worlds did you visit?” Judging by the clanking noise and the slightly darker tone of his voice, Pan is getting bored with talking to Killian’s back and has moved to examining Killian’s possessions. Hearing a cabin being opened and its contents being carelessly rummaged, then thrown onto the floor, Killian can’t hold it in anymore. 

“Just spit it out and be over with it, would you, Pan? Say what you came to say and get out of my ship.” He’s about to start pulling his dirty white dress shirt over his head, but changes his mind and sits down to take his boots off instead. A second later he remembers he’s facing the same hellish task as in the morning; working the leather lacing open with just one hand. 

He reaches down to grab his knife from his boot to simply cut the strings open, to hell with the boots, he’ll get another pair, but he forgets there’s still a demon inside his cabin. 

The stump and the hook catch Pan’s attention immediately, and before Killian has time to hide the remnants of his hand or wrap his fingers around the handle of his knife, the boy has already disappeared and then reappeared right in front of Killian, close enough to steal the air from his lungs. His intense gaze is fixed on the hook, and Killian himself can’t tear his eyes away from Pan’s face and the way his smirk transforms into something nearly animalistic. 

“Your hand…” Pan seems completely transfixed as he slowly lowers himself down until he’s crouching between Killian’s thighs and grabs the stump with both of his delicate hands that have none of the callouses and dirt of Killian’s own. He turns it around in his fingers with almost childlike wonder, grips the hook and rotates it until it comes loose, then looks up at the pirate again. 

Killian can’t help but snort at how the lack of a malicious smile and wicked lies transforms Pan’s face into that of a young, innocent boy. He’s fallen into the trap in Pan’s eyes before, but has learned that it’s simply a mask. 

“Who did you lose to?” Pan asks, one eyebrow cocked and mouth open, tongue running over his pearly white teeth like a predator. 

“I’ve never lost a fight in my life,” Killian growls and does his best to sneer. Pan’s slow smile tells him the boy disagrees, but Killian refuses to see the truth in the boy’s pointed expression. It’s a small mercy he doesn’t voice his thoughts out loud. “Return that.”

Pan doesn’t simply hand the hook back, of course he doesn’t. Instead, he screws it back himself, still not letting go of Killian’s wrist. He presses the pad of his index finger against the sharp tip of the hook, until a sharp intake of breath tells Killian it pierces through skin, drawing blood. The ruby red drop travels down, over the back of Pan’s hand and the bump of his knuckles and towards his wrist, and Pan offers his hand towards Killian. 

“Who did you duel and heroically defeat, then?” He asks, laughing, when Killian simply stares back. 

“It doesn’t matter, I cut off his bloody head and threw it in the ocean!” Killian shouts and nearly stands up from the bed. He would, if it weren’t for Pan’s hands, both of them, suddenly laying on his knees and keeping him down. Pan tilts his head, but the innocence has vanished and there’s only dark anger as he grinds his teeth like a beast. 

Killian doesn’t have time to react before Pan grips his stump again and brings it closer to his face. The muscles of Killian’s legs flex, ready to try and bolt from the bed once more, but Pan presses him down even harder. He couldn’t move if he tried. 

“I should have been the one who cut your hand,” Pan murmurs, staring at the hook, nearly caressing its spotless surface with his intense gaze. There’s not even a trace of old blood tarnishing the shiny silver, no signs of metal hitting against blade or bone. 

“It should have been me!” Pan finally tears his eyes off from it, staring at Killian instead. His green irises are burning, making the color even more vibrant, and he breathes deeply, leaning closer until there’s only an inch or two between them. “Who was it? I want to know!”

“I already told you,” Killian says and he has to force himself to keep his voice leveled. “I killed the bastard.”

Pan doesn’t move for a long while, but he studies Killians face and the hook and gauges the truth in his words. When his breathing has changed from angry huffing to controlled and steady, he abruptly stands up and plops down on the bed next to Killian. There’s a small child’s sulky pout on his lips. 

“You should have at least brought your hand to me. As a gift,” Pan mutters, and Killians lets out a dry laugh. 

“I’ll remember that next time somebody chops off a limb.” He tries very hard not to regret those words when Pan’s eyes forcefully find his own again and the look in them is so hard it feels like a physical touch. 

“No.” He all but spits the word out. “The next piece cut off from you will be by my sword. Nobody else’s.” 

Killian doesn’t answer, just tries to wait out the little patience he believes Pan still has left. The boy won’t stay unless he has something or someone to entertain his dark little mind, so Killian concentrates on the calm movement of his ship and the distant echoes of footsteps from the deck. 

“Shall I go look for it? Bring it back to you?” Pan says and turns to look at him again. The darkness is gone, replaced by an eager smile. “I could reattach it with my magic.”

Killian scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s lost. For good.”

“Shame,” Pan replies and finally gets up from the bed. He does’t disappear back into his lair on the island, however, but edges his way between Killian’s knees and looks down at him. He doesn’t try to touch him, for which Killian is very happy, but his body is too close, his black heart beating right next to Killian’s ear. 

Killian’s hollow hand aches and he feels the wound start oozing blood again under the metal.


End file.
